Full Circle
Verse 1You came along, you came on strong,
I don't think I can complain.
With your smile and your touch, I grew to crave them so much
and the insanity kept me sane.
I want you to know me, yes, please hold me,
make me more than the sum of my short years.
Fly me off to paradise
in your arms, for miles, as we lay here
Chorus 1Why could you not tell me we weren't going far?
Why'd I come home from paradise riding shotgun in your car?
It's cold outside and the only warmth in here is coming from the vents.
If this is what a man is, boy made much more sense.
something bridge-ySo I'm alone and I'm freezing cold,
and burning up, here's what hurts me the most.
It's not the lies. I gave you everything
and got a commemorative notch on your bedpost...
[instrumental break]
Verse 2My own estimation of my reputation's
belied by how I light up your face.
So here you are, I'm pulling petals and wishing on stars,
you'll be my change of pace.
I'm tired of my philandering
and you could help me get it right.
And all that not withstanding, I know
this is not forever, and not tonight.
something bridge-y 2Cuz I've been where you are before
and there are things I can't restore,
that I never knew I'd ever wish I'd kept...
Verse 2.5See, when I was younger I hungered to see all the things
I was forbidden to be.
I'd sneak out at night, knowing it'd all be alright,
in my secrets, I was free.
So I went into the world, my sails unfurled,
and threw myself into the sea.
Now, scarred and torn, I blame society and porn
and all the fucks who never said this to me:
Chorus 2You remind me of all the wonder I felt when I finally accepted myself.
and you make me feel so young again, and it's such fun to make pretend.
But I'll leave well enough alone, after making you want me to stay,
and I won't take things you shouldn't be giving away.
reprise of something bridge-y 2Cuz I've been where you are before
and there are things I can't restore,
that I never knew would mean so much to me.
So I can't go, no, I can't take you
to become the "man" you wish I'd make you.
You'll get there yourself eventually.
Final Verse!Apologies to the owners
of all the hearts that I've discarded.
I know you're young but I hope you know
why it's best that we parted.
I know it sucks and I know it hurts,
but I also know it could be worse.
I'm the last person
you'd want to be your first.
song in progress, with no real name
it explains itself as it goes through. trust me.A Capella
i write to you, endless pages of letters
and your outlook's not getting any better
you're scarred deep down and you don't want to heal
you're caught up in where you've failed before
and even though you'd have me think you're ready for more
well baby, you've forgotten how to feel.
you hurt the most when you don't know you're hurting yourself
and when you write it all down it looks like somebody else
has the blood on their hands, dripping on your clothes.
but your mind's tied up so tight it cuts off circulation
and you slip away to sleep to find some tragic salvation
your waters run deeper than anybody knows.
you think you know your thinking, and the way of your heart
though you can't pass go if you don't even start
you tell yourself it's all for your protection.
your heart's been broken, this i know
and for it all you've got nothing to show
but a one-way ticket towards the wrong direction.
and these images, evocative of someone so alone
a product of a place so dark that nothing else has grown,
they're not quite right, but drama is in style.
and with each new day the sunlight wakes you,
you slap on a happy face, you
neatly hide it all behind a smile.
i see through it when others don't,
while you keep secrets, well, i won't
it's time you were exposed for all to see.
the quiet trail of bones behind you
and scattered souls who couldn't find you
they deserve to know as much as me.
so here's to all the lies you've told
to all the people you brushed off and left out in the cold
i can't allow you to always run and hide.
so here's to where it all gets clearer.
"you" are the person in the mirror.
i'm tired of keeping all of this inside.
bitterness part II, this time with meter
not surprisingly, considering all the bitterness, this one shook me more when i was writing it.i'd sooner fall
into a pit of vipers
than your open arms.
i'd probably smile
if i caught wind
you'd come to harm.
yet
above the din
of angry voices
though there be scores
i know i'd fall
into no other arms
but yours.
bitterness about the same boy, part I
here we go again, crack boy.
when your passing glance
puts the fear of God in me,
that is sad.
death, terrorism, the apocalypse in general
they don't do that.
i hate what you represent
slightly more than i hate you.
i hate being crumpled up
like a piece of paper with three words
scratched out.
i hate that i've had more fun
getting into car accidents
than when i'm reminded of you.
every time my mind takes a shit
you fall out
and every time i get flushed
i drain towards you
and i'm sick of this
masochistic spiral.
my eyes saw you holding scissors
above a marionette's head
when your eyes only saw
empty liquor bottles
and magically disappearing
white powder lines on tables.
you were probably only guilty
of having as much sense
as a kitten.
and i, well,
as much as a ball of yarn.
yes, being unraveled reminded me
how to live.
it'd be nice though if your name
(the most common in the english-speaking world)
didn't remind me how to die.
broken clock
11:29
this bed is lonely
in a way, I guess.
I can barely see your face
in the dim glow of the fishtank.
your clothes, if neatly folded,
carelessly discarded atop
your rows of shoes.
your heater needs service
and it lingers in the air.
I'm trying not to notice your clock.
I'd much rather time were meaningless.
a movie, a martini, socks come off,
spooning, and sleep weighs heavy
on one of us.
12:17
we are both here, I think.
are we both here?
were we both at dinner earlier?
that any human being
could so triumphantly fail with chopsticks
appalls me.
that I found it endearing scares me.
as elitist distinctions fall out of my mind,
well, something goes up around you.
the more air I recycle in your presence,
the less it feels like breathing.
the more I get used to the idea of
your mirrored headboard,
the less this looks like my own reflection.
12:37
yes, this bed is lonely,
this I know.
a garment holocaust litters the floor,
a cry for a steam cleaning hangs in the air.
I ignore my clock, it's decorative anyway.
you were decorative. I made
up the time as I saw fit.
we wrote each other off months ago,
in real life, anyway.
seems your ghost was much
more attractive than the shell it hung out in.
doesn't mean the company of a memory
can't soothe some wounds
from time to time.
first entry
so, i made this blog because 1) my narratives run dry sometimes and 2) i wanted to keep this separate. enjoy.
